1. |
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Rest well, my ash-coloured angel.
Let your wings begin to fold
and your eyes begin to close.
Let your head lay gently among the cooling embers
Shake the cinders from your feathered shoulders,
letting dust fall gracefully to the ground
and settling like winter's first snow.
Let your soot-covered down be your battle armour
against the wreckage of the raging world
until it may be soft once more.
Do not be frightened by the sudden smolder
that the once great world has left behind,
trapping you in its blackened wake.
Let sleep ease you into dazed dreamscapes,
where you may roam the fallen earth alone
and feed on the warmth of its molten core.
Rest well, my ash-coloured angel.
Let your body still and your heart beat slow
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2. |
The Sun Is Gone
08:55
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Contemple une dernière fois ces ruines, de fer et de sang.
Ressent avec moi les relents d'horreur restants.
L'humain est pathétique... Je hais le fait d'en être un.
Regarde les actes de nos semblables. Et demande-toi à quoi ressemblera demain...
Si demain il y a…
Contemple une dernière fois le ciel rougi par les flammes, sali par la fumée…
Ecoute les cris de la bête humaine déchaînée.
Ce soir les anges pleurent, Belzebuth doit se réjouir,
Regarde, l’humanité qui baigne dans son propre sang, regarde la périr…
Contemple l’humain qui tel l’Ouroboros des temps anciens,
Se mort la queue et tourne en rond… Assassinant les siens.
L’homme évolue, construit et batit…
Pour finalement détruire tout ce qu’il fit.
Reste avec moi, reste jusqu’à la fin de la nuit.
Ne t’endors pas poète, toi pour qui la foi en l’humain n’a pas faibli,
Alors, garde les yeux grands ouverts devant les flammes qui dévorent la planète…
Ici tombent les derniers murs, portes et fenêtres…
Regarde ta montre, elle n’indique rien, regarde le soleil… il a disparu.
La guerre est finie… Vois-tu cette vague de feu soudain apparue ?
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3. |
There'll Be No Resting
10:25
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From her lips the sounds of death
Rolling thunder rocks the earth,
Future held within her hands
Pours from her fingers, blood-soaked sands;
Upon the highest peak she stands
Angel or the devil's spawn?
Windswept tresses red as flame
No one knows from whence she came;
Black clouds rumble in the distance
Lightning flashes sear the sky,
All the peace doves leave their nesting
From this day there'll be no resting;
Might this vision be a warning
Sent to man to mend his ways?
Still I wonder if he'll listen
From our eyes more tears will glisten;
Welcome the apocalyspe!
Behold - the firey end is nigh,
If man does not amend his ways
He will have but to count the days.
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